me.
And I do manage to focus. Until the hockey game starts. Of course I have to watch it.
Kaylee texts me halfway through the first period. Okay, what number is your man?
He’s not my man. # 25. Are you watching?
Yes!
I smile. Kaylee has never shown any interest in hockey before this. I love her.
I have a bowl of one of my favorite foods, popcorn, on my lap as I sit cross-legged on the couch and stare at the TV. I frown when Los Angeles scores a goal. I groan when one of the Bears shoots at the L.A. net and the goalie stops the puck. I get excited when L.A. gets a penalty, sitting forward to watch the Bears as they keep the puck in their own end almost the whole two minutes…but don’t score. Damn.
I feel like Josh hasn’t been playing that much. Or maybe he’s just not flashy. What do I know? Then he throws himself down onto the ice to stop a shot by an L.A. player, and my heart leaps into my throat. “What the hell are you doing?” I screech at the TV.
“Big block by Josh Heller!” the announcer cries.
He’s still lying on the ice as the play goes on. Jesus. Finally, he pushes to his knees, then stands and glides off the ice, clearly favoring one leg.
I breathe again, shaking my head. That’s insane!
“And Josh Heller has gone back to the dressing room,” the dude standing between the benches says. “Let’s hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Damn right!”
My phone chimes. Another text from Kaylee. Holy shit is he okay????
I don’t know. I send a series of emojis indicating shock, fear, and hands over the eyes.
They go to commercial, then the game resumes. The period is nearly over. I can’t tell if Josh is back, but then one announcer says, “And Josh Heller is back on the bench, good news for the Bears.”
“Must have been a stinger he managed to walk off,” the other chimes in.
Whew.
They show a close-up of Josh, sitting on the bench talking to the player next to him, nodding, then laughing.
Laughing. After he just took a puck…well, I don’t even know where it hit him.
Another message from Kaylee arrives. He looks sweaty.
I laugh. He definitely does. And the helmet and visor hide his nice eyes.
Kaylee and I keep texting back and forth through the rest of the game, which the Bears even up in the second period, and then with a goal in the third period they squeak out a win. “Go, Bears!” I holler in my apartment.
I guess I’m a hockey fan now.
* * *
—
I’m shocked the next day when I have a text from Josh.
Standing in my kitchen, I stare at my phone and read it again.
Hey how are you doing? Recovered?
I’m confused for a few seconds. Then I tap in a response. How am I doing? How are YOU doing?? You kept throwing yourself in front of the puck last night!
I’m fine. Few bruises, that’s all.
Yeesh. Tough guy.
You know it.
Well, I’m fine. Back to normal. Sorry again about what happened.
My heart beats a bit faster. Is he just being polite by checking in?
No worries. So you watched the game.
Yes. Go Bears.
I get a smile emoji in return. After a moment, he messages, Glad you’re okay.
Glad you’re okay too.
I wait. And wait. Then set my phone down on the kitchen counter. Shit.
Ah well.
I could remind him about doing the hockey video. But I’m not going to. Maybe someday I’ll call him up and ask him about it, when it’s been long enough that he knows I’m not desperately trying to see him again.
I’m not playing games. Really, I’m not. I’m just protecting myself.
I take my tofu quinoa bowl into the living room to eat at my desk while I look at Instagram. The picture of me in the hospital that I shared has gotten tons of likes and comments. I resist looking at them because I know there will be ones in there saying I should have died, or stupid shit like that, although a glance tells me most of my followers are concerned about me. But I can’t get all smug about that either—if I don’t take the bad comments seriously, how can I take the good ones seriously?
Social media sucks.
Then a new notification arrives from Josh.
I quickly swipe to his message. Want to try that dinner date again?
I laugh out loud, suddenly feeling like my veins are full of fizzy champagne. And I send my reply: Yes.
This